Life for Isabelle Green is perfect. Except for whatever it is that lurks in the dark when the lights go out.
~~~
Note: This is NOT a paranormal story. No jump-scares, no purple veiny hands and no skeletal figures. Just a lil thrill and romance~
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After changing back into her pyjamas, Isabelle seats herself on the bed and pats the space beside her.
"What are you waiting for?" she scolds me. Dazed, I get up and do as told, but am careful to not get too close, wary of her intentions in suddenly allowing me on the bed.
I stare in confusion at the hand Isabelle extends towards me. Tentatively, I place my hand in hers. She slaps my hand away with a scowl.
"Your phone," she clarifies.
Embarrassed, I scramble to take it out of my pocket and give it to her. She examines it like she did before, taking off the cover and examining the backside.
"Tara's phone has a half-eaten apple printed on the back." Of course she does.
"It works differently too," she says as she surprises me by turning on the lock screen and giving it to me to unlock, which I do with a flourish, pointedly hiding the password from her. I have nothing to lose from letting her see it, but I decide to be petty as revenge for the embarrassment that I refuse to accept was my own fault.
She however completely ignores my antics and stares at the home screen, occasionally swiping to the next page. She panics when she accidentally makes a swipe motion upward, making the app drawer appear.
"It's okay," I chuckle and push the app drawer down. Relieved, she brings it back up and examines it.
"It's called an app drawer," I explain. "It shows you all the applications installed on your device."
"What's the point? Aren't all the applications on the home screen too?"
"Not on my phone. Tara's is a different brand, sweetheart." I'm not telling her mine is the cheaper one though.
"She brags about it all the time. Something about her iPhone being her pride and joy," she smiles.
I laugh and guide her to the Play Store app. "You install the applications from here."
"This one's different too."
I nod and install the first online reading app I come across. It takes a while, during which Isabelle stretches. I have to avert my eyes so my drain like brain does not travel to places that need to be censored for kids.
I turn to find Isabelle already lying down. She pulls a blanket over herself and motions for me to join. Before I can protest, she pulls me by my bicep and I am completely powerless to resist.
"Relax," she coaxes. Soon, I am lying beside her, my head rested on the dreaded pillow, her tiny hands holding up the phone for me to navigate through the app. We spend the next thirty minutes or so trying to find all the books she hasn't been able to find at the library. She seems even happier than she was at the ice cream stall, and I can't bring myself to mourn the loss of my phone to her.
